Catching up
by Elesianne
Summary: As a child, Curufin wants to keep up with his favourite older brother.


_**Some keywords for this fic: **__Kid fic, family, horses, Years of the Trees_

_**Word count**__: ~1,400_

_**A/N: **Tolkien mentions Curufin being a great horseman and some time back, a headcanon for why popped into my head: as a precocious child, he wanted to be as good a rider as possible to keep up with his brothers._

_Every reader can decide for themselves how old Curufin is in this. Quenya names used because this fic takes place in Valinor. Tyelkormo = Celegorm._

_I wrote this as a pinch hitter for Tolkien Secret Santa on Tumblr so it's a simple little fic._

* * *

**Catching up**

Curufinwë hates his pony.

He tells him so right there in the pony's stall, and would stamp his foot in anger if he didn't consider himself too old for such childishness. His pony, an even-tempered bay gelding named Corimo, stares at him while continuing to chew on hay.

'You are too small and you are too slow, much too slow! You can't keep up with anyone. Probably because of your big fat belly.'

Corimo doesn't appear the least bit perturbed by his young owner's vexed tone or his insults. He just keeps eating. It is breakfast time, after all.

'You are always eating', Curufinwë continues his tirade. 'Tyelko went on his morning ride and because you are too slow he didn't take me with him and here I am, left behind and talking to my useless pony.'

Corimo huffs. He also notices that all of his hay is gone, so he goes over to his owner and nuzzles at his pockets.

'I don't have any treats for you today', Curufinwë tells his pony petulantly.

Corimo nuzzles for a while longer and when he comes to the conclusion that there is nothing to find, he stays by Curufinwë's side and starts dozing.

Curufinwë fumes for a while longer. It is warm in the stable, though, and it smells of horse – in that good way, not like manure, because his father's grooms keep the stable very clean and they have made their morning rounds already – and so without meaning to, he relaxes a little, and raises his hand to pat Corimo's warm belly.

After some time of petting his pony, he tells him, 'I suppose that it's not your fault you're slow. You're small and your legs are short. I'm small too, so I'm slower than Tyelko and Nelyo and Cáno and Moryo. But', he adds, a crease of concentration between his brows, 'I am going to talk to father. Something must be done about this.'

* * *

Curufinwë tries to keep his chin up and his voice steady when he presents his complaint to his father.

'… and I am a good rider, papa, I could control a horse. I have outgrown my pony.'

Fëanáro, sitting behind his study desk with his fingers steepled in front of him, raises his brows. 'You have not outgrown him. If you had, we would have already got you a horse. We would not let you ride around on a pony that you could harm by riding. He is still a good size for you, not too small.'

'But I could ride a bigger pony or horse. I'm a very good rider, everyone says so, you too', Curufinwë contends. He doesn't like arguing with his father, but this is a matter of great importance. 'I can control a bigger horse even if my legs don't go as far down his sides as is ideal.'

Fëanáro shakes his head. 'I don't think it is time for that yet. Your brothers were all much older when they switched to bigger mounts –'

'Not Tyelko! He was only a little older –'

'He was taller than you.'

'But papa.' Curufinwë struggles to not cry in frustration, and just barely succeeds. 'I am always left behind when the others go riding outside the city. Tyelko says that he would like to take me along, but my pony is too small and slow and Tyelko, and Nelyo too, says that he would get tired if he tried to keep up.'

'You might get tired too', Fëanáro replies dryly but then, possibly because he can see that it is becoming harder by the second for Curufinwë to not express his frustration more, adds more gently, 'Even if we got you a horse, it would not be safe for some time for you to ride outside the city with your brothers. It is harder to control a mount that is too large for you, and you have no experience of riding outside Tirion without my or your mother's guidance.'

'You're just going to let me get left behind?' Curufinwë can't believe it. His father is never so cruel to him when he asks him for something.

'I will think of something.' Fëanáro gets up and comes to Curufinwë. 'I know that it is hard for you sometimes that there is a larger difference in age between you and Moryo than between the others, and that Tyelko especially is getting close to adulthood while you have many years to grow before you reach that time. Now, how about I come with you and give you a riding lesson, so you learn to ride your pony as well as you can? It's good for the future in any case.'

'Fine.' Curufinwë wipes his reddened face on the sleeve of his undertunic as surreptitiously as he can. 'But you promise that you will do something?'

Fëanáro puts his arm around Curufinwë's shoulders and leads him out. 'I promise. I will talk to Tyelko and the others.'

* * *

Late in the evening when Curufinwë has already washed his face and is reading before going to bed, Tyelkormo knocks on his door and then instantly pokes his head in.

'Curvo! Come on, follow me. But be quiet, father said I shouldn't show this to you until the morning.' Tyelko grins. 'I decided not to wait.'

Curufinwë nods and, as quick as he can, finds his slippers and puts them on so he can walk as quietly as possible.

As it becomes clearer and clearer that Tyelko is leading him to the stables, his excitement grows. Could it be that his father changed his mind and got him a real horse after all?

Tyelko tells Curufinwë to wait right inside the stable door, and disappears into a dimly lit stall in the back.

And comes out of it leading a shaggy pony.

Curufinwë is so confused he can only stare. Tyelko beams at him and feeds the hairy, stocky pony by his side a carrot.

'I don't understand', Curufinwë says after a moment. 'That… creature is only a little taller than my pony. It's a pony.' He can't help his accusing tone.

'This is Mussë!' Tyelko announces. 'And she's my pony.'

Curufinwë still doesn't understand. 'Your pony? But you have a horse, a real, proper horse. What would you do with a pony?'

'Go riding with you, silly.' Tyelko runs his hand down Mussë's almost fluffy-looking neck just as appreciatively if she was his large black stallion. 'Father talked to me and I suggested that I get a pony too so you can keep up with me and we can ride outside the city together safely. You on Corimo and me on Mussë.'

Armed with this new information, Curufinwë eyes Mussë critically. She is undeniably a pony but a large one, and very sturdily built, with strong legs and wide back. Tyelko is tall and broad-shouldered but perhaps this stocky pony is strong enough for him to ride.

Curufinwë thinks that if he were as tall and grown up as Tyelko, he might be too embarrassed to ride a pony like this where people can see. Tyelko seems to care less about such things.

'It's very hairy', Curufinwë notes anyway.

Tyelko laughs. 'Little ingrate! Yes, she is as hairy as a mountain ox, but she's as strong as one too, the sturdiest pony in Tirion, so she's strong enough to carry me. So we can ride out on short, slow adventures together.'

Curufinwë grins at that.

'Come on, come greet Mussë. She's boringly well-behaved, to tell you the truth, and slow too, but she will do until you grow enough to ride a horse.'

Curufinwë goes. He pets Mussë – her coat is even softer than it seems – and feeds her a carrot. He fetches and feeds one to Corimo in his stall too, too, scratching him behind his ears just as he likes while he munches on it.

'You will do', Curufinwë whispers to his pony's ear. Corimo flicks it at Curufinwë's direction. 'You're not too fat or slow, my brothers were too fast. But tomorrow we will go riding with Tyelko and Mussë. I wonder where Tyelko will take us.'

* * *

_**A/N:** Horse name meanings: Corimo = Round One, Mussë = Soft One._

_I imagine Mussë to be like an Icelandic pony – large and strong enough to carry most adults, and fluffy in winter. Corimo I imagine as a large_ _Gotland pony._


End file.
